


Caged

by whimsical_ramblings



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1830946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsical_ramblings/pseuds/whimsical_ramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Otacon finds Liquid to be slightly more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caged

Hal had never been one for metaphors. He remembered being in high school and staring out the window for most of his classes involving literature, letting his mind drift, or sketching out sloppy schematics in his notebook while everyone else was taking notes. But he did remember something from his ancient literature class in 11th grade, something about a man with wax wings that flew too close to the sun until they melted, sending him plummeting into the ocean to drown. There were only three moments in his life that he could recall this story popping into his head. The first one was when his father had drowned in their pool, the second was when he was discharged from the FBI for hacking into classified files, and the third one was right now.

With one guard on each side of him, guns slapped across their chests, Hal was beginning to regret joining Armstech. He never imagined working for a company that specialized in weapons development, but the pay was good, the location was secluded and free of many people, and he’d been offered a job as one of their lead developers on a project that, in hindsight, seemed too good to be true. He’d flown too close to the sun, and now his wings were replaced by handcuffs, his employees were nowhere to be found, and he was being led to what he assumed was his potential death. He glanced up at the guard on his right, whose face was shrouded in the same black mask that all of the guards wore.

“Where are we going?” he asked, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The guard he’d addressed gave him a quick, stern look, and the guard on his left placed a hand in the center of his back and shoved him forward. Hal stumbled, nearly tripping over his feet.

“No questions,” one of them said, and Hal kept his head down for the rest of the journey.

They led him to REX’s hanger, the giant mech still incomplete and covered in scaffolding, and was presented to a small group of people who were examining it from the other side of the room, their heads cocked back to take in its large metal frame. All of them were men, save one, and as he and the two guards approached, their eyes moved from REX to him. One of them, clad in a long beige coat and wearing nothing but brown pants and black combat boots underneath, stepped forward.

“This is him?” he asked, and Hal took note of his strange accent, English mixed with something else, like it’d been watered down from exposure to other dialects.

He assumed one of the guards behind him had nodded, because the man began to examine him, arms crossed over his chest as he circled him like a hawk. Hal became increasingly uncomfortable as the man’s eyes wandered over every part of him, sizing him up, and he began to feel incredibly small.  

“He’s not much, is he?” the man said to no one in particular. He leaned over a bit, his face hovering right above Hal’s, and the dogtags around his neck swung forward and glinted as they caught the light.

“Although, he does look a bit familiar, wouldn’t you say, Ocelot?”

One of the older men of the group, Ocelot, smirked, and Hal noticed he was fidgeting with one of his guns, twisting it around from one finger to another.

“Like a window to another time, Boss,” Ocelot agreed, and the man in the long coat smirked as well.

“Uncuff him,” he instructed the guards, and they did, Hal bringing his hands up to rub at the marks on his wrists. The man took a step forward, and Hal resisted the urge to back away. He looked him up and down again, slowly, then gestured at his clothes.

“Take these off,” he said, and Hal blanched.

“W-what?” he asked.

“I want you to strip,” the man said.

Hal was confused. Weren’t they going to kill him?

“You want me to…what?” he asked him. Hal was afraid at first that the constant questions might irritate the man, as they had the guards earlier, but he only seemed to become more amused. He stood up to his full height, his arms at his sides, giving Hal full view of his large, muscular chest underneath his coat.

“I want _you_ ,” he said, “to take _these_ off,” he plucked at Hal’s jacket, and Hal flinched, “so we can search you.”

Hal willed himself to move, but was finding it difficult. His eyes fell back on the gun Ocelot was twirling, and he noticed another one holstered on the opposite side of his belt. He hadn’t seen anyone on their way to the hanger, and it was starting to become clear to him why that was.

_Everyone’s dead_ , he thought, and a cold chill ran down his spine.

“If you won’t take them off, I can have Ocelot do it instead,” the man suggested. “However, I think you and I both know you don’t want that.”

Hal glanced back over at Ocelot once more, who winked at him, and he shook his head.

“Good,” he said. “So take them off.”

Hal swallowed a lump in his throat, and when he exhaled, he could see his breath cloud the air front of him. The hanger was less isolated than the rest of the base, and cold air seeped through the walls.

“It’s freezing,” he said dumbly, and the man turned his head around.

“Ocelot,” he called, gesturing him over. The only woman in the group stepped forward before Ocelot could.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Liquid, the kid is scared half to death,” she said.

“That’s _Boss_ , Wolf,” he said firmly. “Now step back.”

She shot him an icy look, but did as she was told.

“Now,” he said, turning back to Hal. “Any more complaints?”

Hal looked at Ocelot, who seemed more than eager to get him out of his clothes one way or another, and started shrugging off his coat. Liquid watched him the entire time as layer after layer came off, until he was left with nothing but his thin boxers, shivering, his feet chilled against the frigid grates of the floor. He picked through every layer of Hal’s clothing, checking every pocket, and dropping them back to the ground when he found nothing of interest.

“Clothes check out,” he said. He kicked Hal’s clothes to the side and marched up to him.

“Spread your feet apart,” he said.

Hal blinked, confused, but before he could ask any more questions, Liquid placed his boots against the inside of Hal’s feet and nudged his legs apart. With gloved hands, he uncrossed Hal’s arms from his chest rather than asking him to do so, and held them out to his sides. He placed his thumb against Hal’s bottom lip, forcing his mouth open to look inside, and after a few moments of searching moved down to his boxers. Hal started when Liquid’s hands moved across his thighs and in between his legs, wandering over his backside in what Hal hoped and assumed was to check for any weapons he could have hidden. His hands lingered on his waist longer than necessary, until Hal found himself wishing the ground would open him up and swallow him. Leaning over slightly, Liquid brought his mouth to Hal’s ear.

“You work for me now,” he said. “Don’t forget that.”

He stood up straight again, and gestured for Hal to put his clothes back on. Hal nearly jumped at the opportunity, scrambling to get himself dressed.

“Keep him in his office, under heavy watch,” Liquid instructed the two guards behind Hal. “No one goes in or out unless I’ve given them permission to do so.”

Once Hal was finished dressing, one of the guards slapped the handcuffs back on his wrists.

“I look forward to working together,” Liquid said to him, the words coming out like a threat, and the guards led him away.


End file.
